Deliciously Scientific
by Jestie Uchiha
Summary: Perhaps the worst place for a human to live is inside another human. Having been experimented on and placed inside a body to help defend it, Neoma decides to do the opposite. Biding her time, she lurks about the City of Frank, waiting for the opportunity to bring him down. Then Thrax comes along and provides her with just the opportunity. Eventual Thrax/Oc. Antagonist-centric.
1. Prologue: Spite Fueled

**Deliciously Scientific**

**Disclaimer: I don't own Osmosis Jones.**

**Prologue: Spite Fueled**

The inner human body was the most bizarre, complex thing Neoma had ever had the misfortune of seeing first hand. And, when she thought about just _where_ she was at any given moment, the most disgusting.

She had to wonder, though, if something similar was going on inside her own body. The thought, while fascinating, made her shudder.

And while the circumstances of her situation left her with a torrent of emotions, two in particular stood out among the rest: resentment and regret.

She resented the scientists with their odd shrinking chemicals that did who-knows-what-else to allow her to survive in a human body. She resented Frank, whose repulsive body she was unwillingly placed inside via injection. But mostly, she resented having everything she'd ever known ripped away from her.

As for regrets, she regretted choosing the Medical Science field. She regretted agreeing to a project she knew next to nothing about- especially considering that she _did_ know it involved a series of injections and tests on her part. Neoma regretted that she, being the dumbass she was, had literally signed herself up to be a lab rat.

The project, as she had later on learned, was to essentially turn humans into the perfect immunity cells. To do so, the scientists would try to shrink other humans down to microscopic size and tamper with their innards to allow them to live inside another body.

They wanted to change as little as they could about humans and still allow the body to survive inside a much different environment. Lungs, for example, would have to adjust to blood instead of air, but be able to change depending on if the human was inside a body or not.

To give them an edge against bacteria, the scientists mutated one completely inorganic thing into their subjects: rubbing alcohol. While tampering with their insides, the scientists made sure to place a sac inside their abdomens that would serve as an "extra organ". Its function would be to both hold and produce alcohol.

They then made pseudo veins to connect from the sac to the right hand, where they made special pores to expel said alcohol and make it coat the entire hand. While deadly to any germ, virus, bacteria, or fungus, it would be, considering the minuscule size of everything, harmless to the host-human.

Of course, as it was harder to work on smaller things, they saved the shrinking for last.

She, unfortunately, did not know any of this when she agreed. Nor did she know that they had been trying to perfect their project secretly for ten years, and in those ten years not one test subject survived.

Until she came around, that is. She was literally the only success. So, as soon as they confirmed that she was indeed a fully functional human/cell mutation, they shoved her into the first human that fit their criteria.

To properly test her abilities, they needed a certain type of human to be her host. They looked for an illness-prone, unhygienic human; a human that would provide her with plenty of challenges.

And then they found Frank, who was being forced by his daughter, Shane, to get a Flu shot. Overeager to test their creation, the scientists, leaving no one the wiser, spiked his immunization with the only existing, first ever humanity cell.

It was supposed to be ingenious- after all, if humans fought off the bacteria, what could go wrong? It's better than nanobytes because humans are smart enough and compassionate enough not to go AWOL and attack the human body instead.

At least, they were supposed to be.

The scientists didn't take into consideration Neoma's rage at being duped and forced into a human body. They didn't consider her resentment of both themselves and Frank, even if the latter was slightly irrational.

But mostly, they never anticipated that a certain virus would enter Frank, and what would happen when he did.

* * *

**A/N: I am so obsessed with this movie right now it's not even funny. I just had to write this.**

**I'll try to update fast but I make no promises. Review please!**


	2. Chapter One: Amongst Cells

**Deliciously Scientific**

**Disclaimer: I don't own Osmosis Jones.**

**Chapter One: Amongst Cells**

She was drowning! Fuck, she was drowning!

Panic welled up inside her as she gasped for breath, desperate for air. But each breath she took burned like hot coal down her throat, and made her lungs feel stuffy and hot. She could feel the liquid pressing down on her, filling her nose and her mouth and her lungs. She felt it crushing her, oppressing her…

She coughed and gasped, clawing blinding at her surroundings. Her vision was a hazy red, blurred by the suffocating fluid. The tears triggered only worsened her eyesight, and her near-blind state fueled her panic and confusion.

The more she gasped, however, the more she began to realize that _she could actually breathe_. Her body, despite the extreme discomfort, was in fact being supplied with oxygen. She wasn't dying or choking, even if her haywire brain would have her think otherwise.

Gradually her breathing slowed to a more natural rate, and her eyes accommodated to the new environment. Each breath still felt agonizingly stuffy, and everything now had a slight red tint to it, but it was no longer the disorienting and unbearable experience it had been before.

Calming, she breathed in shaky breaths. Her lungs filled, expanding uncomfortably with the heavy fluid, and each exhale was a relief. Finally under control, she took in her surroundings.

It looked like she was inside a small city. There were cars, and buildings, and roads, and…

What the fuck was that?

Through the red tint that now coated everything, Neoma saw that the odd creature groaning next to her was green in color. The thing had two eyes, and four arms; it was short, stout, and had a long face. Unlike anything she had ever seen.

Where was she?

Her mind was fuzzy. Fragments of memories filtered through her conscience in irregular spurts, supplying her with but mere pieces to the puzzle that was her situation.

She remembered entering Medical School, hearing about a scholarship and experience program, signing a liability waiver because of the supposedly mild yet unpredictable testing she would have to go through, and then… and then…

Her head pounded and she moaned, pinching the bridge of her nose in pain and frustration. A steady throb built up behind her temple, and she ached all over.

What had happened after that? She remembered meeting the scientists, a total of five males, and then… and then a series of days passed out from drugs. She didn't remember much of that. Pain she recalled during occasion, along with scattered words talking about immunization and then…

Then there was orange liquid. The same drowning feeling, blurred voices, confusion, weakness…

"Oh man, oh man. What a rough ride," the creature to her side grumbled, interrupting her thoughts. Her attention snapped to it, shocked to hear it speak.

She watched, bewildered, as the creature stood up, smoothing out its purple suit as it did so.

Then sirens sounded, and that was perhaps the only thing about this entire situation that made any sense to her. After all, there was a green monster thing in the middle of a city; the cops were bound to be called. And then maybe they could help her, too.

"Hey, babe, what the hell you supposed to be? Don't look like no cop to me, and you sure as spit ain't influenza…" the thing addressed her.

Ignoring it, she staggered to her feet. It took her a moment; her new atmosphere offered more resistance than air did. Then, not sure what else to do, she waited.

She didn't have to wait long. Before she knew it, two odd looking police car pulled up in front of them. The cars themselves didn't give her a pause, but their drivers sure did.

While not quite as odd as her green friend, they were by no means normal. They looked like blue human-shaped blobs, as though they were made from jelly instead of flesh.

"This is the FPD! I need the new immunization to come with us to fill out the proper paper work to get registered into the Virus Protection Program," one of the jelly-cops announced, "and the other thing to stay where it is until authorization is confirmed."

She didn't know if she was more stumped by the 'virus' ordeal, or the fact that she was referred to as the "other thing", as if that little green bitch was more normal than she was.

She made a move to talk, but succeeded only in choking on the same stuff she had difficulty breathing in earlier. Realizing with dismay that talking would take a bit of practice she didn't have time for, she scowled.

Looks like she wasn't getting that help, after all.

So she ran.

It was clumsy at first; a half swimming, half swaying, jerky motion that showed her awkwardness in this new environment. Surprisingly, they didn't catch her in her gawky retreat.

She was willing to bet it had to do with the fact they decided to shoot at her rather than chase her. While her odd gait made her slow, it made her movements less predictable and harder to hit.

She didn't know whether to be grateful or pissed.

"What the hell is that?" she heard another jelly-cop shout to the green thing- virus?- as he took aim at her.

"Hell if I know! Not influenza, I can tell you that much," the virus replied, shrugging.

"Somebody call back up! We have an unidentified organism on our hands!"

"Spit! It's heading directly towards Axillary Highway!"

They scrambled behind her, trying to organize who would stay with the virus and who would go after her.

Knowing she couldn't make it on foot, she leapt into the street and waited for a car. She was not disappointed. Before long, a car came down the road and slammed to a stop once the driver saw her.

Not missing a beat, she forced the red jelly-man out of his car before taking it over. To her immense relief, it was perhaps the most normal, human-like thing she had been forced to try to navigate all day.

Slamming her foot against the gas pedal, she sped off towards what she recognized to be a highway.

By the time the jelly-cops had organized themselves, she was long gone.

* * *

She eventually got off the highway, ditched the car, and continued on foot. Walking eventually became a natural process again, and she alternated between walking, jogging, and sprinting before finally resting in an alley.

Her right hand felt oddly clammy and cool from the adrenaline, but she dismissed it as she slumped against a building wall.

"Fff-ugk," she tried to grumble out. It was hard to speak; like a combination between gurgling underwater and trying to talk during a coughing fit.

"Fuuc," she tried again with no success.

"Ffuk." And again.

"Ffuuck." And again.

It wasn't until much later that she finally got the hang of it, and even then she would sometimes have a slight slur. In that time, her headache and confusion had mostly faded and she remembered everything there was to remember on how she got there…

And to say she was pissed was an understatement. Granted, agreeing to the testing in the first place had been a mistake on her part, but what could she say? A girl needed to get career experience somehow. Offering to pay for the rest of her medical schooling, though, had just been icing on the fucking cake.

But they should have told her what they had in mind. Or they should have found a way to change her back. If nothing else, they should have consulted her before sticking her inside a body. _That _had not been part of the deal.

She looked at her cool, clammy hand as she seethed in anger, no longer ignorant to the destructive power it contained. The alcohol beaded from the pores of her hand like sweat, looking perfectly innocent as it awaited her usage.

One touch to any green bitch or jelly-fuck, however, and she knew it was game over. The alcohol would literally eat them alive. It was supposed to be her weapon against germs, supposed to be used to help the Immunity System.

But why help them? They shot at her, no questions asked. Probably wouldn't listen to her if she told them the truth. Not to mention that helping them would be doing what the scientists wanted, and since she doubted money or experience mattered for shit now, listening to the bastards that put her in this situation was a big no-no. So basically…

"Fuck this bodayy," she snarled with a slur.

The scientists thought humans wouldn't go AWOL? Well, she would just have to show them how wrong they were.

She would lie low for a while, wait for the perfect chance to bring this body to its knees, and then pounce when the opportunity arose. It would give her time to adjust and make connections.

So help her God, she would cast the world into flames if it meant revenge. What did she care for one piggish man?

* * *

The idea came to her from watching the cells.

It didn't take a genius to figure out that she couldn't wander around the inside of a human looking, well, human. It attracted unwanted attention.

So since she couldn't waltz around in the open, and there was no way she was going to spend the rest of her duration in this body cowering in the shadows, she was left with but one choice: to find a disguise.

Her initial, albeit unoriginal, idea had been to find a trench coat of some sort; to find and steal some article of clothing large enough to hide herself in.

But then she saw it.

She had been slithering her way closer to civilization- she wasn't going to pull a trench coat out of her ass, after all- when she spotted more white blood cells. Both were male, not that it mattered one way or another, and were harassing another green blob. This one, she could tell, was different than the one she had been with earlier, and was being treated different as well.

Whereas the virus she first met had been approached with mild caution, this one had the cells actively engaging in combat against him. Normally, she wouldn't have given it a second glance, but the way the cells fought gave her an idea.

They stretched themselves out, pulled their skin away from their bodies, and literally tore themselves apart to avoid hits…. And yet, no matter how mutilating their actions, they always fixed themselves.

By the end of the fight, one of the cells had engulfed the virus with its body. She gaped as the cell's body expanded around the virus, completely stilling it, before sliding off and reforming like nothing had happened. The virus stumbled, looking stunned, and they cuffed him and hauled him away before he could regain his composer, oblivious to the mutated human whose eyes now gleamed mischievously.

"Ooh, this is going to be goood," she cackled, slinking back into the shadows of the alley. Cogs turning in her mind, she planned her next course of action.

If her hypothesis was correct, all she had to do was get her hands on a cell. If that same flexibility she just saw applied even after death, then she could use the cell's skin- or membrane, if she wanted to be accurate- to hide in plain sight. She could just wrap herself up in it, and disguise herself as one of those jelly-fucks.

Probably morbid and fucked up beyond belief, but at that point she just didn't care. Desperate times called for desperate measures.

She went in search for her first victim.

* * *

**Done!**

**Wow, haha, I think this is the fastest I have ever updated a story. I hope to keep it up. Tell me what you guys think! REVIEW PLEASE!**


	3. Chapter Two: Stooping Lower

**Deliciously Scientific**

**Disclaimer: I don't own Osmosis Jones.**

**Chapter Two: Stooping Lower**

Cells were surprisingly light, and Neoma was capable of dragging one around with little to no difficulty.

She chose not to dwell on what she was doing; of how wrong it was. Besides, when it came down to it, the kill was nothing to fret over. It had, after all, only been a cell.

Dropping the slack body behind the cover of yet another alley, she crouched next to it. She had gone out of her way to get a female cell, though Neoma wasn't sure if gender would have any affect on what she was about to do.

Not entirely sure how to proceed, Neoma grabbed the sharpest object she could find spur-of-the-moment and used it to dig into the cell's membrane. Once a sizable amount had been firmly separated, she dropped her tool before grabbing and pulling the patch she had managed to detach. It worked; once she had a piece off, the rest of the membrane detached from the cell like a flimsy sticker.

Without the membrane holding it together, the cell's gel-like insides, otherwise known as cytoplasm, splattered across the ground.

Holding up the semi-clear, blue, human-shaped shell, Neoma began to slide her naked, pale body inside like it was a pair of footie pajamas. The inside felt moist, squishy, and cool- at least when compared to her new environment's constant temperature of ninety-eight degrees Fahrenheit.

And while she could see through it, it felt downright _weird_ over her eyes. Not that it felt any worse than the blood did.

Regardless, Neoma was relieved to not be entirely nude. Not that her new disguise protected her modesty at all; the membrane _was _semi-clear, and while it hid the fact she was human, it still allowed for the mostly unaltered view of her bare body.

Now, Neoma was not very modest or body-shy, and considering the situation, had felt very inclined to ignore her nudity in light of more pressing matters. However, she could only be completely vulnerable for so long before it began to grate at her nerves.

And now that most immediate issues had been resolved, she felt it necessary to finally clothe herself.

Grabbing the outfit the cell had been wearing before she had snagged her, Neoma slipped on the black slacks and white blouse. Vaguely, she wondered what the material- and everything else, for that matter- was made out of that it could be found inside a human body.

Once she was fully covered, she went about adjusting the membrane to better fit her figure. It molded well, and soon acted like a second layer of skin. It even enveloped her hair, making the long, dark brown strands appear dark blue.

She was honestly surprised her plan had worked so well.

Fully incognito, Neoma straightened her posture and exited the alley like she owned the place. She had to make it appear as though she belonged; she had to both look and act the part of an average white blood cell.

Once she was in the open, cells politely acknowledged her presence with nods or greetings. She smiled sweetly and returned the favor.

Then when they turned their backs, she smirked darkly.

* * *

She was somewhere in the lower backside when she happened upon a donut shop.

Her stomach rumbled at the sight, and she suddenly realized that she couldn't recall her last meal. She probably hadn't eaten since being shrunk.

Uncaring of her lack of money, she marched determinedly towards the shop. The cell managing straightened at the sight of a customer, and she glowered at him.

"Get me anythwing, and be fasht," she growled, attempting to intimidate him. It worked, and he swiftly provided her with an odd, gooey donut. Deciding she quite frankly didn't give a damn what it was made out of, she took a bite.

Much to her shocked displeasure, the donut literally dissolved in her mouth before she could swallow it. Confused and angry, she tried eating the rest in one go.

The results were the same. The tasteless goo either dissolved in her mouth or in her throat. Nothing made it to her stomach, and the sharp, unrelenting hunger pains confirmed it.

She pondered the anomaly until she realized what had happened.

Those stupid, idiotic, _retarded _scientists didn't change her digestive system. The donut, and almost every other food that could be found in Frank, was meant for _cells_ only. And she wasn't a cell.

The donut didn't actually dissolve, however. That was a bad way to describe what happened. More, it was absorbed by _her_ cells. Her body accepted it as some form of outside nutrition meant for her cells, when really it was supposed to be for her.

Basically, what all this inevitably meant for her was….

"Uh… hey, uh, miss, yo-you gotta p-pay for… that…" the donut-cell stuttered, faltering when she turned her enraged glare on him.

"Actually, I don't think I do," she sneered, summoning alcohol to the pores in her hand.

The effect was instantaneous. The membrane covering her began to writhe and bubble, starting from her hands and spreading to the rest of her body. As the reaction became more intense, the membrane turned a pale green before rupturing. The remains of the decimated membrane oozed off her in slow, disturbing drips.

The donut-cell, having witnessed the entire process, stared at her in terror. Before he could gather his senses, Neoma thrust her hand into his chest and watched with satisfaction as he liquefied before her, receiving the same fate as 'her' membrane.

Pulling away, a displeased scowl etched its way onto her features.

She would need to kill another cell to get a new membrane, but that was the least of her worries. Right now, she was more distressed by what she would have to do for food. Because since cellfood didn't work, that only left…

"Whatever Frank eats," she groaned, thoroughly appalled by the prospect but aware her only other option was to starve.

* * *

The mouth was disgusting, and provided only minimal relief for being out of the blood.

The bits of food left over from Frank's last meal looked like mush, and everything reeked. And yet…

Grabbing bits of the mush-food in her once again membrane-covered hands, Neoma shoved them in her mouth. It didn't taste bad, but it felt so sickeningly slimy… and then when she thought about why…

Her stomach lurched and before she could stop herself, she was throwing up. Since her stomach was still empty, she mostly threw up foam and some stomach acid. Even when she could throw up no more, she continued to dry heave painfully into Frank's saliva.

She felt so humiliated and so angry. No words could describe it. She couldn't decide if she wanted to purify herself with every known cleaning product or massacre an entire civilization.

Because how _dare_ she be forced to resort to such measures? How _dare _she be thrown into this sickening, demeaning situation?

"God damn-it," she sobbed, clenching her teeth and hiding her face in her arms, "Gaud fucking damn-it!"

It wasn't fair!

Her breathing became more rapid and she wanted to scream because crying was a sign of weakness, and she knew it wouldn't do anything except to shame her further. Yet she couldn't stop. Why couldn't she fucking stop?

Fighting to control herself, she grabbed more bits of food and shoved them down her throat. It was so unbelievably _disgusting_ and _revolting_, but she refused to throw up again.

At least she knew she wasn't ingesting any germs, considering she was the same size as them.

She ate just enough to fill herself, because any more and she knew she wouldn't be able to handle it.

Settling down on the gum line, she watched as little green germs scurried around the mouth and dove into the food bits whenever a saliva helicopter circled overhead.

And to think she just ate that…

With how unhygienic Frank was, God only knew what she had just ingested.

Her stomach churned at the thought.

But despite how much the place sickened her, she knew she had to stay inside the mouth and wait for Frank to drink some water.

The wait was longer than expected, mostly because Frank imbibed beer all the time, and apparently water wasn't his beverage of choice.

Once he finally drank water, she gulped down as much as she could- giving a whole new meaning to the term "backwash"- while simultaneously trying not to drown.

It was a horrible experience, and it was one she knew she would have to repeat if she wanted to survive.

Though why would she want to survive with such horrible living conditions? She considered the question and decided that, at the moment, nothing but the thought of revenge kept her going.

* * *

**Done! Sadly no reviews yet, but I got two followers! Woot!**

**Anyway, it will probably be a couple chapters before we see Thrax. Need character development and all that shnazz. **

**REVIEW PLEASE!**


	4. Chapter Three: Scum of Frank

**Deliciously Scientific**

**Disclaimer: I don't own Osmosis Jones.**

**Chapter Three: Scum of Frank**

Neoma clicked her tongue in annoyed distaste as she surveyed her surroundings.

The liver was a dump. It was the worst place- in terms of quality- she'd been in thus far; and considering she was inside Frank, that was saying something.

The streets were cracked, the buildings rundown, and the cars wrecked. Everything seemed to be coated in either a layer of grime or graffiti, sometimes both.

The inhabitants were no better.

From what she could tell, they were either delinquents or pitiful vagrants. The majority were germs of some sort, though she saw the occasional sleazy cell. None of them appeared trustworthy, as all had appearances and attitudes that practically screamed 'criminal'.

Kicking one of the many stray pieces of trash that littered the area, Neoma smirked.

A criminal was just what she was looking for.

She supposed that, if it came down to it, she would be able to kill Frank on her own. She knew enough about the human body, having briefly attended medical school, to hurt what needed to be hurt. The rubbing alcohol her body now generated naturally would make resistance easy to rebuke. It was possible, for sure.

The thing was, though, she didn't _want _to do it on her own. While she knew a lot about the human body, it was all technical knowledge; medical book stuff. Good for preforming surgery, or coming up with antibodies… bad for actually being inside the body, in the midst of the action.

No medical book could've prepared her for the miniature society she'd encountered. It was a whole new ball game, one she'd never prepared for, never even thought existed. She was sure there were rules- and not the law ones, either- that needed to be known and followed. Rules to keep the balance… or something… She didn't know. But that was exactly the point: _She didn't know. _

How could she know? She was in an entirely different world. There were, of course, similarities. This world and her world weren't entirely contrasting. But the similarities weren't enough to outweigh the differences; to compensate for the _unknown_.

Like all living creatures, she wasn't entirely comfortable with the unknown. As a result, she wasn't as confidant as she otherwise might have been. Which is why, understandably, she wasn't too keen on the idea of working on her own.

Then there were criminals, who knew the underlying rules of this world- if there were even any to begin with.

In this world, germs and criminals were one in the same. And germs were _designed _to bring down bodies. Their entire reason for _existing _was to kill people from the inside. There was no unknown, no uncertainty, no fumbling to adjust. To them, it was as simple as breathing. It was their life.

And now, it was hers, too.

She wanted to be able to say she felt bad about it. That she felt some form of guilt or remorse. That her conscious was berating her because, despite her situation, all humans deserved life and killing was wrong. She wanted to be able to say all that. She really, really did.

But she couldn't.

Perhaps she just wasn't compassionate- empathy never really had been her thing, in all honesty. She pined for a career in the medical field because it earned a lot of money. Not to mention that, should the situation ever arise, she had figured knowing how to save her own life would be useful.

But even from the beginning, it was never about saving lives. Because, when it came down to it, she didn't care about the lives.

To her, the loss of a life wasn't worth fretting over. _Everyone _died, ultimately. How and when, who and where… it didn't matter.

Therefore, she found it incredibly hard to feel bad about taking a life- human or cell.

She did, however, recognize that it was abnormal to harm others without remorse. She felt shame for that. She felt shame that she was different, that she didn't care, and that she was willing to do things that were thought to be wrong and morbid.

Her shame had caused her to pretend that she _did_ care; caused her to wear mask of empathy.

Now that she thought about it, that mask could also be blamed for her situation. After all, had they known what a cruel bitch she was, chances are the scientists wouldn't have allowed her to enter their little "program".

The mask could still be called upon, if need be, but only for so long. It was a cracked mask; a mask unable to withstand the constant anger she now harbored.

It was an anger that burned inside her like a fire; always ready to be either fanned into a fury or smothered into resentment. But no matter its strength, the fire was always there. It was there, and it demanded revenge. It burned the shame away, and it brought forth feelings of malice even she was surprised by.

The beginnings of a skirmish broke her contemplation.

"Hey, punk, think you can get away with not paying the Godfather? He runs this body! You wanna do crime, you do it on his terms," she heard someone roughly growl. There was the sound of a slight scuffle before a whimper sounded.

Neoma turned towards the noise, interest piqued. A crime lord, huh? Now _that _was intriguing.

The sight she beheld was that of a large, one eyed germ pushing a scrawnier germ against a wall. The two of them were surrounded by a group of bulky germs who, judging by their malicious sneers, were most likely buddies with the antagonist.

Neoma licked her lips in anticipation, ignoring the coppery tang of blood that assaulted her taste buds as soon as she opened her mouth. Eager to see how this turn of events would play out, she slinked closer.

"I-it was just a small time deal, I swear! I ju-just jacked some stuff from a gas station, nothing serious!" the scrawny germ was babbling at this point, his three eyes wide with fear.

"Oh, nothing serious, he says," the group jeered. "Didn't you hear what Cold said? Godfather dictates any and all crime, no matter how small!"

The scrawny germ gave a pathetic mewl of distress, and Neoma unconsciously moved closer to the group. If she wanted some criminals, it sounded like she'd hit the jackpot. But she needed more information. Maybe she could kidnap someone from the group and interrogate them?

"Hey fellas, looks like we got ourselves an eavesdropper! And a cute one, at that!"

Before she could register that she was said eavesdropper, a slimy green hand grabbed at her chest and pulled her into the group. Dazed, it took her a moment to realize that her back was now pressed against the wall.

"So what's a pretty cell like you doing around here?" the germ that grabbed her leered, eyeing her figure crudely. "Not dressed like a cop. So, toots, don't you know it's dangerous to hang around the liver unsupervised? Maybe we should, uh, _supervise_ you." Snickers erupted from the group, as though they had just heard the funniest joke in the world.

Her blood boiled and the flame of rage within her heated up like an inferno. The things they were suggesting... and about _her_, no less. Her teeth ground together, and her vision went red from more than just the blood.

Killing the germ hadn't even been a conscious decision. One minute, she was glaring at the group, and the next the germ who had grabbed her was screaming as he dissolved before her.

The rest of the group practically bounded backwards in their alarm. Staring at her in shock, they eyed her now membrane-less figure. The clothes she'd stolen from her very first victim, having never come into direct contact with the alcohol, continued to remain intact.

Following the brutal murder of the germ, as well as the shocking revelation that she wasn't a cell, a tense silence commenced.

* * *

Shortly after her episode, one of the germs made a call to the Godfather about her. He had demanded a meeting with her, and luckily for them, she was more than willing to comply. Getting in with the criminals had been her original goal, after all.

Had she _not _been willing, however… they wouldn't still be living. And they seemed to know it, too, judging by their timid behavior around her. They weren't willing to touch her, and they made no direct demands as they lead her to the left armpit.

To Neoma, the walk was both awkward and enjoyable. Awkward because no one had anything to say, but enjoyable because of how empowered she felt. Their obvious fear of her was… intoxicating.

The arm pits positively _reeked_, and the humid, foggy atmosphere only made the smell worse. It was like a cross between a dirty locker room and a sauna- a very bad combination, if ever there was one.

Apparently, not only did it feel like a sauna, it was used as one.

They were already deep in the pit when she saw a germ, perhaps the fattest she'd ever seen, lounging in a chair with only a towel to hide his modesty. As a symbol of status, he wore two glorified, bejeweled rings and an oversized necklace.

Automatically, she recognized that this must be the Godfather. She felt a surge of disappointment at the realization. She had been expecting someone more intimidating.

"Is this her? The HIV virus?" he questioned. His voice was raspier than expected, reminding her of an old man. Eying the way his face sagged, she wondered if he actually was old.

Though she was momentarily bewildered by what he called her, she didn't voice her confusion. Instead, she racked her mind for how he could have possibly ended up at that conclusion. In the end, only one reason made sense.

In the process of killing the germ, her stolen membrane was destroyed. That brought to attention the fact that it wasn't actually hers, and that she was just using it for a disguise. She was aware that HIV viruses worked by disguising themselves as white blood cells. Maybe they did it in a fashion similar to hers; by literally stealing and hiding themselves in the membrane?

That would be why, when it was revealed she _wasn't_ a cell, they just assumed her to be something else. And, as far as they were concerned, the only thing that fit into her category was HIV.

Trying to explain to them what she really was would be taxing on both parts. It would simply be too hard to try and explain, and they were too simpleminded to understand. They probably wouldn't believe her, anyway.

So really, they just gave her yet another disguise. She wasn't one to turn down an opportunity when it presented itself, especially when it saved her a lot of trouble.

"Yup, that'd be me," she lied with a pleasant smile. Fake, of course, but they didn't need to know that. The Godfather hummed in response.

"I guess we could always go for a new recruit. Especially one as useful as HIV…" he mumbled, mostly to himself. Neoma waited, feigning patience when really she was itching for him to get on with it. "Well," he finally decided, "so long as you know your place and make your payments, you're welcome in this body as far as we germs are concerned."

"Payments?" she prompted, not entirely sure what germ-currency consisted of.

"Yeah, you know. A part of anything you get ahold of. Adrenaline, Insulin, Iron… the list goes on," another germ replied to her question. She nodded.

She could make payments and follow this little band of ruffians for a while. Not like it made a difference to her; there was nothing in this body that she wanted.

However, she would only continue to follow them so long as they eventually got around to killing Frank. It was her only goal; a goal she was willing to pay any price for.

If she wanted to be cliché, she would say the biggest price to pay was her humanity. But, when it came down to it, she lost her humanity as soon as the experiments begun. No _human _was microscopic; no _human _could produce alcohol and release it from the pores of their hands. No, she wasn't human, not anymore.

So, since humanity didn't really play into the equation, the only price she had to pay was materialistic. And even that was hardly a price, considering that the materials weren't anything she needed, or found even remotely useful. She wasn't human, but she wasn't a cell or a germ, either.

Really, she wasn't anything. She was a class all her own.

"Cough, settle in our new recruit! Show her around and tell her how things run around here," Godfather ordered, waving his hand lazily towards her.

The germ who had answered her question earlier straightened up and nodded before striding towards her. He was tall and lanky; less burly than the others.

With Neoma trailing behind, Cough started to exit the pit.

"By the way, HIV, what's your name?" Godfather asked, as an afterthought, before they could leave.

Neoma considered giving the germs her real name- it wasn't like an alias here would make a difference one way or another. However, she was feeling a bit melodramatic, and had a sudden, narcissistic need to be clever. Besides which, she already had an idea.

"Oma," she told them with a smirk.

Oma, while a shortened part of her own name, was also a medical suffix that typically described a tumor or an abnormal growth; i.e. Cancer. While she was similar to HIV with her way of disguising herself, her purpose in this body also made her similar to Cancer.

Cancer was essentially a white blood cell that mutated and went rouge; not that dissimilar to her. She was mutated for the sole purpose of saving lives, but went rouge and decided to end them instead.

The name Oma also meant "giver of life" in Arabic. It was ironic for the same reason that she and Cancer had similarities. Instead of "giving life", she would be taking it.

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**Done! Wow, I got three reviews and favorites, and two new followers! I LOVE YOU GUYS!**

**Anyway, Thrax will definitely make his debut in the next chapter. That's actually sooner than I originally anticipated. **

**Sorry for the long wait! Haha, you'd be surprised to learn that I update faster on this story than any other story I have ever written.**

**Review please!**


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